


Persuit

by Missy



Category: Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types, The Mummy Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Archaeology, Demons, Future Fic, Gen, Horror, Mentors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie becomes friends with her mentor, who in turn tries to help Annie when a dire demonic curse descends upon them both thanks to a mistranslation accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persuit

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for LadiesBigBang, the round has since been cancelled, so I'm going ahead and posting this. Thank you to by beta Amber!

Northern Cairo  
1975

“All right, love – where should we put the death masks?”

The tip of Annie Knowby’s tongue jutted outward as she locked it between her teeth and scanned the small storage room. This hot, dark space had been carved out of the sand and dust in the fifties with funds from his second grant. Now it was filled to bursting with things they’d dug up over the past five years, things they hadn’t been able to sell to private collectors or home in museums and didn’t want to display in their manor house, family cabin or offices back at Knoxville University. It made tucking any new additions into the mess a true challenge, a puzzle that she had to carefully consider before answering.

“I think…on top of the fertility jars?”

Her father’s grin nearly split his face. “Joaquin!” he called to their intern, “secure the box!” 

Joaquin rolled his eyes but did just as he was instructed, forcing Annie to mask her smile as she ducked through the piles of artifacts to stay beside her father. Joaquin had been put through four intensive digs in the past six months and with every month seemed to regret his choice to take part in Knowby’s program. He and Annie had shared long conversations over dinner in which they considered nice, safe professorships at colleges that were far from the fruitless desert plains. 

On days like this one Annie felt invigorated by the process of becoming an archeologist. Possibly because it was a clear avenue to his heart. “Excellent taste, love,” her father said, pecking her cheek. 

“I’m only following your lead,” she said quickly. “You’ve always had such good taste.” 

“That you get from your mother,” he retorted. “She’s always had the finest of eyes for objects d’arte.” He patted Annie’s slim shoulders. “We’ll be flying back to London soon. Are you ready for a change of seasons?”

“Rain, snow, cool temperatures? That almost sounds like heaven.” 

“Psht. I’m fairly sure you’ll start missing Cairo any day now.”

Joaquin clambered down from the stack of boxes. “All set, Doctor Knowby.” 

“Thank you, lad. Go treat yourself to a coffee - supper should be up in a few hours.”

Joaquin continued to mumble under his breath about labor laws and contractual limitations as he quickly headed off to the mess hall. Knowby watched him go, shaking his head. “That boy’s going to spend the rest of this life in a research library.” 

“Oh dad,” said Annie. “Libraries always have their place in the archeological world.”

“So you say,” replied Professor Knowby. “But who would want to spend time in a dusty library when the whole world’s out there.”

Annie gave him a weary laugh. “After this trip I think a dusty library’s just what I need.”

*** 

_St. John's Lodge Institute of Archaeology Library,_  
Gordon Square  
London, England 

“Jonathan!” came a brilliant but piercing cry from atop a ladder within the cramped recesses of the library. Her voice was fortunately distinct; unfortunately Evelyn Carnahan-O’Connell stood obscured by the mountainous stack of library books piled in her arms and on the shelves around her. The wobbling of the ladder holding her up was obvious to the naked eye however, and to Evy’s instant dismay, Jonathan tripped over his own feet as he rushed through the front door to help her down.

“Y’all right, Evy? You aren’t hurt again, are you?” He extended a hand to steady the ladder and she quickly climbed down to the ground floor.

She heaved a sigh and alighted from the stack of books. “I promise you that I’m fine! My ankle’s been out of that ridiculous cast for a week, and I’m completely healed and totally flexible.”

“Please don’t tell me about your flexibility, Evy,” groaned Jonathan, moving away from the ladder. 

“Oh, well,” Evy sighed. The books were deposited onto a rolling cart, which she pushed with surprising quickness. At he end of the stocks she turned toward him again. “Aren’t you off to Kathmandu again?” she wondered. 

“I’ve got tickets for the 8:10 train,” he said. “Don’t cry too much, sis. I promise I’ll look in on Alex on my way through the continent.” 

Evy chuckled. “Don’t bother them, Jonathan, they’re off on their second honeymoon.” 

He let out a slow whistle and clicked his teeth. “Are they really? Damn - I was hoping to get in a little time with their nanny.” 

Her jaw dropped. “She’s twenty years old!”

“And so what? There’s still a fire’s still burning in the basement, Evy.”

“Please don’ tell me anything more about your basement.” She bent over the stacks of books and started shelving them.

Jonathan shrugged. “No furnaces and no flexibility. I’ll hold you to that.” As he wandered toward the door. “Oh! Rick told me he’ll be late for dinner. Something about meeting with a Professor to arrange something. You know how he goes on.”

“Right. I’ll be sure to give him a ring before I go home.” He didn’t’ need to tell her that he’d stopped in to check on his ‘infirm’ younger sister. Meanwhile, Jonathan was nearing eighty and could swim the English channel with both hands tied behind his back and while womanizing a sunbather and drinking twelve pints of brandy.

Not that Evy was anywhere close to behaving like a doddering retiree, recent broken ankle set aside. Though she was a grandmother twice over and she was growing dauntingly close to what was referred to as ‘retirement age’ by her library colleagues, she and Rick had continued to live with as much gusto as they could. In between travels to Cairo and to Japan and even to the far-flung shores of America to track Alex’s family’s activities, each of them had taken up enterprises of their own. Rick ran ‘businessman weekends’, helping middle-aged wannabe adventurers develop “synergy” while training in the arts of swordsmanship and heroic comportment. He complained that it was all hooey, but they swallowed it readily enough and he wasn’t about to fight them on their newfound beliefs – anything to be useful and continue padding their already completely stuffed coffers. 

Neither had Evy settled into a comfortable retirement. Though she continued to write bodice rippers based on the hundreds of adventures the family had undertaken over the years, she had gravitated toward the more familiar as well - work as a librarian here in England. She was head of the entire research department and spent many an hour helping phds and grad students learn about long-gone pharos and queens of the ancient world. It suited her still, the dust, dim light and warm smell of books. Egyptology called her onward endlessly. Likely the part of her that was Nefertiti calling her homeward, demanding her fair share of the hot sand and blue sky that London didn’t afford her. Evy didn’t know how long she could resist the call of the wild; she had spent years picking up and going wherever the latest dig was. There would always be two sides of her personality and she still had no idea.

She looked up with a start as the phone jangled. She’s a bit stiffer as she rushes toward the phone, but there’s still a happy grin on her face as she picks the receiver up.

“Evy!” 

Rick. She smiled against the receiver and felt that sweet familiar thrill that always electrified her nerves whenever she heard his voice. “It’s four in the afternoon,” she declared. “There’s a teatime to get through before I get home.”

“You’d rather be sitting in that old library instead of on our nice warm couch, Evy? Damn, I must be losing my touch.”

Evy snorted. “Did you ring me up for a little flattery?”

“Maybe. But you can flatter me any time, baby. Tonight preferable.” She heard a vague, jarring clatter in the background, followed by an exclamation. “I’ve gotta go – Wolcheck got into the gunpowder and he’s trying to take over the Living Room.”

She scrubbed a hand over her tired face, chuckling softly. That was the key to marriage with Rick; tossing a handful of spice into the proceedings every now and again. His inventiveness had gotten her through more than one doldrum, and she tried to repay him as frequently as she could.

Her clock chimed and she sighed, reaching for her logbook. Two more hours to go, then she’d be homeward bound on the Tube.

**** 

_Heathrow Airport,  
London, England_

Annie needed a beer.

A tall, frosty beer and a thick steak. Those were the only two things haunting her psyche as she disembarked from the plane. Her father owed her a nice drink and a sympathetic ear after that endless flight.

Annie’s meal plans fell away as her father brought his Jeep around to pick her up. She knew he wanted to stop by the library for tea, perhaps to introduce her to her mentor, or even better to pour over the treasures they’d dug up in the presence of the libarary’s officials. He was ever one to go the distance to please presumed authority – to better form a line of allies to rescue them from any jam they might stumble into with certain government – related authorities. Annie knew without having to guess that her father had likely packed a few items into a carry suitcase out of the many he’d managed to get through customs, and wondered what he planned to show off.

“Which library are we headed off to?” she asked him.

The car raced down a long, rain-soaked road, turning leftward toward the busy university section. “The only one that matters,” he scoffed. “St John’s Lodge.”

The Egyptologists. She might have guessed. She leaned forward against his backrest and propped her chin onto her wrist. “What are we going to show them?”

He gave her a grin. “You’ll have to be patient to see that.”

Annie strove to be patient during the trip. Even managed not to peak, which is quite a feat for a bored sixteen year old. They reached the university and found a place to park nearest the employee entrance, and Professor Knowby withdrew a large suitcase from the back seat. She watched her father glad-hand the various guards that’s stood between them and full clearance, and soon found herself following him into the library, careful to mind the swinging metal Samsonite.

At the end of an manila-colored hallway stood the library – which wasn’t particularly grand, but it was overstuffed with books and various epherma. And at the very head of the room sat an elegant and delicate-looking elderly woman in glasses and a smart little midi suit, sipping from a china cup and with a small paper plate of cookies set before her. Her austere presence made Annie wished she’d stopped home for a shower before venturing out again.

Annie’s father grinned and approached the woman with his arms outstretched. “Evy,” he said warmly.

She started, spilling a bit of tea across the book she’d been engrossed in. But when she noticed the intruder she gave a return grin. “Professor Knowby!” Carefully, she stood for his embrace. 

The hug was ginger and yet warm. “You look well,” he declared, marveling at her existence in obvious pleasure. 

“I’ve been well,” she said. Then she peered about his shoulder, eagle eyes lasering in on Annie. “Is this your daughter?”

“That’d be me,” Annie said dryly, offering her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”

“We definitely have,” Evy said. “You were six months old, and your father had just finished his tenure here.” Evy studied Annie with a certain sense of fond appreciation. “But you’re rather big to be peeing on anyone’s handbag now.”

Annie cringed. “I’d apologize…”

“There’s no reason to,” Evy said fondly. “I had one of my own.” She turned back toward pushed the pot of tea and the tray of sweets. “Would you care for a little something?”

It was an insubstantial pile of flummery, but Annie was ravishingly hungry. “Please.” She extended her palm for a raspberry shortbread as her father found a stack of plastic cups for tea buried in the well-organized mass of tea service. He also found a nest of violet-scented sugar cubes.

“And how is Alex?” her father asked.

“He and his wife are doing beautifully,” Evy said, filling the plastic cup and handing it over to Knowby. “They have three grown children and two young ones. They’re living in Hong Kong at the moment.”

“There’s one place we’ve never been,” pointed out Annie.

“Never to Hong Kong?” Evy raised an eyebrow. “You certainly haven’t been spoiling the poor dear.”

“Hard work makes the archeologist,” he pointed out. “And speaking of hard work,” he said, placing the desk on a bare portion of her desk. “I’ve brought some treats for you.”

Evy quickly put aside the tea and cookies to take a better look at the haul her friend had brought along. “I’m sure you’ve brought some lovely baubles,” she said. “You’ve perfect taste as always.”

“That remains to be seen,” he noted archly. “But,” he said, throwing open the case, “I believe we’ve found some rare beauties.”

Within the case lay a beautifully crafted diadem made of heavy gold, with beautifully handcrafted curlicues of dark brass at the temples. It looked like something a fairy queen would wear, with carefully-set chunks of lapis, sapphire and ruby welded to each of the curlicues. The ruby was a hypnotic gem – blood red, and consuming center stage with ease and truly strength. It had likely been mined for hours in the hot sun, rolled and panned until it glistened, a truly glorious bit of beauty worthy of any pharaoh. Arranged with the ancient care of a master craftsman, it seemed to be the possession of a queen deposed long ago. 

At least that was Knowby’s take. 

Annie hadn’t tried to date the crown yet, but he said he believed it came from the post-Cleopatra era. Perhaps it belonged to Selene herself.

Something unknowable flickered deep within the older woman’s eyes. Then she smiled winsomely and looked up to see Knowby watching her. “It’s possible. Dating would be need to be done but I’m sure a little elbow grease will prove you right.” She leaned a bit closer to the case. “What else do you have?”

Knowby responded by pulling forth an oversized ceremonial dagger with an elaborately gilt hilt. Evy raised an eyebrow as he laid it upon her desk. “I’m thinking it’s fourteenth century. Definitely post-Roman colonization. Look at those glorious strike marks!”

Evy tilted her glasses down the bridge of her nose as she leaned forward. “A warrior’s sword,” she murmured to herself. “I wonder if it was separated from a burial mound.”

“Quite likely, it my opinion,” Knowby said. “The smallness of the hilt is quite fascinating. Perhaps they’re a women’s piece.”

“And perhaps they go with the diadem.” Evy leaned a hand against her chin and examined the glitter of the crown. 

“Preposterous! They’re clearly from different eras.” He carefully thumbed the gilt edge of the weapon. 

“Indeed,” Evy said, picking up the crown. “But,” she said, picking up a rubber glove to touch the ornament, “perhaps the sword came down to her from a male relative. Maybe it’s her grandfather’s…”

“Oh Evelyn,” Knowby sighed. “You’re always one to find a reason for a woman to be slinging about a weapon.” 

“Seriously Raymond – we both know a woman without her sword is positively naked,” she declared. “The sword doesn’t have to be a literal weapon – it might be her courage or her mind- but it’s her defense against the world’s evil, and she ought not be forced to face the world without it.”

This perked Annie’s interest. Her eyes brightened and she noted Ms. O’Connell’s bristling intelligence, the amber glow of brilliance deep within her eyes. Right then and there she felt a kindred sisterhood spark up between them. “did you bring the staff?” she asked Raymond.

“I’m afraid not,” he admitted. “It’s far too delicate to be hauled about unnecessarily. You’ll have to come to the museum to see it, Evy.”

“Do you think it’s part of the set?” she wondered.

“It’s got a ruby jewel at the crux of the handle, just like the diadem.” Knowby shrugged. “It’s all poppycock until we can carbon date.” The last item he hauled onto the desk was a book. Bound in a well-wrinkled casing and with jaggedly-bound pages, it was menacing enough to make both women back up slightly. Knowby took the diadem and the dagger into hand and started tucking both away while Evy gingerly picked up the book.

“Where in the world did you find this?” Evy asked.

“In a dig site eight miles north of the Nile,” Annie said. “It was amazingly well-preserved. Father’s been hoping we could have your assistance in translating it.” 

“That depends on the language,” she said, carefully flipping open the cover. The pages were onion-skin thin, and she exercised great caution in handling them. Scanning the illustrations, she raised an eyebrow - some of them were rather graphic in their depictions of violence, Annie knew that from her cursory examination of the tome, and it was likely that the elderly woman had never been exposed to anything so blatant. Evy turned her eyes to the elaborate and fine script lining the margins of the book. “It seems to be some form of Sumerian,” she observed. “What daft bastard swiped something as old as this and left it to rot in the middle of Egypt?” Sumerian and Egypt were distant cousins, but the widespread travel of sacred texts was not a common practice. 

“It wasn’t precisely in the middle,” he replied jovially. “But, heaven knows,” said Knowby. “It was the most intriguing item in the entire chapter, but it was incredibly difficult to excavate. We spent many an hour trying to dig it out without disturbing the wall it was set in. The blasted thing was stuck behind a metal grating.”

“Probably a grail,” said Annie. “It was the southernmost wall in an ancient underground temple.”

“We thought it might have been part of a larger display, but the place had been otherwise ransacked by the time we got there,” he added. “There was nothing there but an empty cercophegous and a pile of ancient pages.”

“I do know Sumarian,” said Evy. “Though I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty at it. If you’d brought me French or German I could do it in a minute,” she admitted ruefully. “But I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm to translate it,” she smiled. 

The lights flickered abruptly, causing Annie to shiver. Evy gave them an apologetic smile. “The wiring here’s gotten a bit faulty. Guess it’s just the age of the building.”

“Old or not,” Annie spoke up. “The place has wonderful character. I’m hoping to do my thesis in a building just like this.”

“And so am I,” replied Knowby. “Remember what I told you about mentorship, Annie?” he asked. 

“Yes, but I don’t suppose you’ve already spoken to Missus O’Connell about it.”

“Missus O’Connell?” her nose wrinkled. “You have to call me Evy if you want me to take you on,” she said. 

Annie smiled. The last thing she wanted was to leave the library after what she’d gone through to get there. “All right, Evy. I do need somebody to sign off on my research who’s not a relative.” 

“And now I’m reminded that I didn’t ask after Henrietta,” she said. “Tell me about her.”

“I’ll need another cup of tea,” he said. 

Evy started pouring, and even as she laughed Annie felt a sudden thrill as a phalanx of goosebumps appeared on her upper arms. 

It must have been a draft, she decided quickly, and turned her attention back to the pile of cookies.

**** 

Evy couldn’t sleep.

This wasn’t a problem that had ever haunted her before. She’d been possessed of the spirit of an ancient Egyptian queen and yet she’d never felt as trouble as she had by that book. It

She rolled over and saw Rick beside her, sleeping the sleep of a man untroubled. She didn’t know how he managed to sleep like a rock, but he’d done it every night of their married life, as untroubled as she was by the small things in life after having survived so much. The only time she’d ever seen him troubled was when their son was sick. That had been so very many years ago – and Evy felt as if she could count the years in the lines upon her face.

With a shrug, she went to the silence of the study. Flicking the telly on, she found an old repeat of I Love Lucy, then spent an age fussing with the rabbit ears. The little stems of metal refused to move in either direction, so she climbed upon a stack of books for a better grip and height. Soon the sound of static was replaced by the roar of a studio audience, and Evy dismounted the bookcase and headed to the kitchen to snag a snack.

She only knocked down two volumes of Chaucer on her way down.

Cookies and milk seemed to go well with Sumarian, judging by the speed with which she managed to translate the words that spilled forth from the ancient tome. The words weren’t precisely pleasant, but then again it was an ancient funerary tome. One didn’t’ expect to read about tea parties and the sanctity of life when blood sacrifices were on the line. She cringed as she translated a particularly gruesome-sounding ritual danced by her half open eyes. It was terrible – and terribly fascinating. She marked out a series of translations for Annie to handle on her own as a form of homework after their meeting.

After half a dozen pages, she felt herself grow heavy, sleepiness slowly sending her toward the peace of her bedchamber. She reached for the knob on the set and the picture started to flip rapidly back and forth between the gruesome sight of Freddy Krueger stalking a victim and Lucille Ball’s laughing face. Worried that the contrast was finally starting to die on the old thing, Evy reached for the knob, only to feel it wiggle against her palm as if driven by a sight unseen. Evy muffled a shriek and gained control over the knob, flicking it to the off position, then yanked her hand from the set as if she’d been burned. 

“My mind must be playing tricks on me.” She reached for the lamp and shut it off. “I’m too tired for this,” she shuddered, then slammed the book shut, rubbing her goosebump-laden arms.

She returned to the comfort of her bed and her husband’s arms posthaste, then allowed herself to drift away under the weight of odd nightmares about shrieking skeletons.

 

**

Annie’s sleep was far more restful, and she’d come to her meeting with Evy prepared for anything. What she ended up stuck doing was another set of rubbings to facilitate Evy’s translation – and a couple of dozen pages to translate on her own.

After a couple of hours bent over a book, her fingers stained with charcoal and her mouth flavored with the herb-heavy taste of tea, Annie had begun to see her father’s wisdom when it came to the boring nature of studywork. She pressed a charcoal pencil against the book and began to carefully make a rubbing of the illustration, trying to keep the page from crackling.

It was tiring work, and Annie wished she’d thought to bring her Walkman. The repulsive images would have fit perfectly in a Slayer video or some pop-art nightmare by Metallica, and she might have pretended she was watching a music video while dealing with the parade of torn flesh, bloody eyeballs and lovingly-detailed eviscera. 

She squinted at the rubbing she’d just made. It was apparently a chapter that dealt with surgical advice; the kidneys she’d traced stood out in bold relief, bright enough to make her realize she’d managed to completely blur the pancreas right next to it. She grasped another piece of paper and started making another rubbing.

She didn’t notice that she’d managed to tear a page until she felt a light dribble of liquid pour down her wrist. Annie reached for a napkin, but her attempt at blotting up the liquid only seemed to smear it about more. 

When she automatically daubed the napkin into the tea to get her hand entirely clean, a second pass came away blood red.

Eyes wide, she shoved herself away from the table and locked eyes on the fearsome book. Then she noticed it – a drop of blood welling in the center of the torn retina of an anatomical drawing. Dread swamped her limbs but she drew forward, staring in horrified fascination as the blood turned from a trickle to a flood to a raging torrent, spitting like a defiant mouth into Annie’s face. The sharp of it covered her teeth and tongue, and Annie let out a blood-curdling shriek, her hands flying to cover her mouth before it could endure further indignities. 

“Annie?” It was Missus O’Connell, but her familiar voice couldn’t stop Annie’s terror. She felt too strong hands shaking her shoulders until she was forced to open her eyes. 

“The book!” she cried, pointing at the open volume. 

“Are you daft?” she wondered. Gently, she pulled the hysterical girl’s gripping hands from her blouse and pointed at the book. When Annie finally gained the courage to look at the cursed thing again…she found a normal, blood-free book.

Annie’s eyes widened, and she wiped her clammy cheeks in embarrassment. “I swear!! I saw it, I saw it bleeding!”

Evy shook her head. “You just dreamed it,” she said gently, pouring Annie more tea. “It was just a day dream – and I can’t blame you for having one, it’s quite a twisted little piece of work.”

“I promise it wasn’t a dream,” she said. Her fingers shook so on the cup and her teeth chattered as she tried to drink from the china cup. “It spat blood at me!”

“Either way, there’s not a spot of blood on you,” she said. She wrapped a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulders. “It’s too late for us to finish anything more, and you’re in no shape to continue. Shall I walk you home?”

Annie nodded. She’d agree to anything that would get her away from that thing. They locked up the library and rushed out into the fresh air and sunshine as quickly as the breeze could carry them.

Neither paid witness to the book’s sudden animation – a vibration, then the rapid turning of pages, closing itself violently against the outside world’s prying eyes. 

*** 

Annie stayed close to the older woman as they made their way to Annie’s folks’ flat. The day outside was beautiful and mild, but Annie couldn’t stop herself from shivering at the memory of what she’d survived. Evy continued to talk to her as if it were a normal late summer day, as if they were happily headed home from an excursion. As if she’d simply experienced a bad dream. Annie broke away from her fears and took notice of the woman’s surprisingly brisk stride, wondering how she could ever keep up with everyone around her when she was nearing ninety. And in a splint to boot.

“Are you sure your foot’s fine?”

Annie’s fingers flexed against the handle of her ornately carved cane, smiling at the younger woman’s innocent concern. “I’ve lived through worse; the pain’s been gone for ages now.”

“Do you swear?” Annie wondered. They were nearly at her stoop now.

Evy grinned. “Not as often as my husband.”

The demimanse was deserted, though beautiful in its marbled isolation. There was a cavernous nature to it, all ornate with dark wood and well-polished floors and everything shaded in the darkest of teakwood. 

“Your father should be out,” said Evy. “I think if you wait long enough your mama should be back.”

“I don’t think it’ll be long,” Annie said quickly, not wanting Evy to worry. “Would you like me to call you a cab?” It seemed even more foolish to have dragged the older woman out here, now that she was ensconced within the thick walls of home.

“I’ll call my own,” Said Evy. “Your mother?”

“Her mother,” came a soft voice from the doorway, “is right here.” 

Henrietta Knowby was a pleasant-looking woman in her fifties, with gray hair and a plump figure that was already rounding into matronly proportions. She wore a blue flower-dotted housedress, and a blue cardigan sweater – and the expression of a woman who had long ago surrendered herself to walking in the shadow of her charismatic husband. “What’s gone wrong?” she asked. “You’re very early.”

“I’m afraid Annie’s had a little bit of book fatigue,” explained Evy. “Hello, Henrietta. It’s been ages.”

Henrietta squinted at the woman. “Evy Carnahan?” She wondered.

“O’Connell,” she corrected gently. “Been O’Connell for fifty years now.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten,” said Henrietta. “It’s been ages since Vanderbilt.” 

“And Oxford. But who’s counting, dear?” Evy wondered.

“I don’t suppose anyone,” Replied Henrietta. “Annie, let me help you upstairs, then I’ll call Missus O’Connell a cab.”

“I’m all right, mother,” insisted Annie.

“Now, I won’t hear of it. Draw yourself a bath, and for heaven’s sake, rest,” demanded Henrietta. Annie allowed herself to be gladhandled by her mother in a rare show of authority that led them back up the stairs. By the time Henrietta returned, Evy was already on the phone to the cab company. Henrietta watched her finish up the call before she spoke up.

“How have you been?” Henrietta wondered.

“Well,” Evy admitted. “And well off. Though I must admit that Rick’s not one to rest on his laurels for long.” She brushed a hand across the mantle, feeling the dust of its disuse. “I’ve missed your family,” she added. “And Raymond,” she added. “It feels like ages since we were schoolgirls having picnics on the banks of the Rye.”

“It has been ages,” replied Henrietta dryly. “But I suppose I look it more than you.” She sighed. “Evy, what on Earth is your secret?”

“I don’t have one!” Evy replied. “All I have to do is live my life. Egypt’s done wonders for you, I see.” 

Henrietta reached for the front pocket of her work smock. “It’s dried me out. This skin used to be a sponge.” She pinched it and winced as it wrinkled. “We’re getting older all the time, Evy.”

“Oh, balderdash – age is a state of mind.” She smiled. “And you’ll always be a bit younger than me. And you’re trying to keep us from talking about what’s bothering you, aren’t you?”

“Do you mean my daughter’s panic attack?” Henrietta wondered. “I presume that the truth she told me is the right one – she was just having a little nightmare. I do trust you with her,” she said. “I trust that whatever happened was well under your control.” The heavy implication was that if anything went wrong she’d have her dear friend strung up by her thumbs and fed to a crocodile in Regent Park.

“Always,” she said. “I’ve lived through worse, y’know.” 

“Of course.” Only in the most stratospheric of the upper crust of British Society was assault by sekelton considered to be inappropriate topic in polite company.

Henrietta snorted. “It’s only a few years,” she replied. “Feels like an age or two – but only a few years. Are you happy, Evy?”

“Absolutely…” Evy trailed off, watching Henrietta light her cigarette and take a long, deep puff from the glowing tip. “Well...I suppose I’m truly happy,” she said. “It’s a bit dull with Alex being off the continent with Ling. Jonathan and Rick keep things lively, and the library will never want for my attention, but when one’s spent a life adventuring it’s hard to settle down.”

Henrietta automatically passed the cigarette over. “Have I ever told you that Raymond’s planning on taking on a dig in London?” she asked.

Evy raised an eyebrow. “What on earth are they going to excavate in bloody England?” she wondered. It seemed as if there was too much urban congestion – too many people, dogs, and sticky toffees to possibly leave room enough for a proper well-done dig.

“A castle,” said Henrietta proudly. “Raymond thinks there are signs of an ancient pile overlooking the center of London; if he gets a grant, he’ll be leading an expedition by the time fall arrives.”

Evy smiled; it was a thin, promising grimace of a smirk. “We’ve both come so far and yet here we stand -two lovely ladies of Oxford, still in London, still sipping each other’s tea.”

Henrietta raised her invisible glass and smiled. “The best and the brightest of us – and even after all of our sophistication and our breeding and our millions of travels we’re still playing parlor games after all this time.”

“The parlor’s where the best revolutions happen, Henny – everybody knows that.” They toasted again, this time more jovially. “You do have a fine daughter,” Evy said. “An excellent girl, with a brilliant mind. With any luck she’ll be blazing a trail of her own throughout the archeology world.”

“Raymond will be thrilled. We all but gave her a rosetta stone as a teething ring.” Henrietta wrinkled her brow. “I adore the man, but sometimes I wonder if we’re all second best to him – if all that’s ever mattered to him is the depth of a pile of stones, the way a sedimentary pile leans. Consider yourself fortunate, Evy – you don’t have to compete for your husband’s attention with an ancient amulet or a helmet made of iron.”

Evy chuckled. “You’d be surprised.” A horn honked outside. “And there’s my ride.”

The two women parted warmly, but on the trip back home Evy continued to weigh Henrietta’s words. The dig in London, the sudden animation of the book – it had to be all connected somehow, in some way, though why, though how, she had absolutely no idea whatsoever.

*** 

The tome sat on her dresser all evening and for most of the following day; she let Annie translate smaller, easier bundles of words while she weighed the merits of further exploration. She didn’t tell Rick about her curiosity – she knew well what he’d tell her, and she had no need of his bristling practicality putting a damper on her personal parade of wild speculation.

In the end, she took the book to the labs. Oxford had several good clinicians who would be glad to take a small sample of the book’s material and run a battery of chemical tests to figure out what might have caused her hallucinations, and Annie’s as well. Perhaps it was some chemical in the pages or binding that had set them both off; maybe it was something about the way the ink had settled into the pages; after she carried it off to be looked at, she settled into happy and utterly calm way of being. Annie’s translations came along well; she and Rick went riding; she played cards with Jonathan in the evening before he returned to the relative calm of his casino/brothel in the depths of Xanadu. She got along beautifully and fondly sighed at the compliments the heads of the department deigned to bestow on her. She often wondered why she’d even bothered to worry.  
One afternoon several weeks later, on a chilly but brilliant Friday morning, she and Annie were bent low over their work, translating line by line the journal of a queen of Ethiopia. 

“…And that is when my Uncle knocked upon my bed…bedroll?”Annie chewed her lip. “No, that can’t be right.

“Bed’s door, perhaps?” Evy suggested. “Something to do with a bed….” Evy smirked. “It’s about to get juicy.”

“Evy!” gasped Annie.

“There now,” she chuckled. “I may be older and I may hold myself a little straighter, but I’m still alive!” That was when the phone rang. “Keep on going, I want to find out if he sullied her bedroll.”

Answering the phone took her three rings, and the university student at the other end of the line sounded bored to death when she picked up. “Hi. So, like, the pages you sent for analysis are probably made of human flesh. The ink’s definitely blood. Did Professor Bob like, fool you with one of those weird taxidermy craft projects he makes every Halloween?”

Evy cringed. “No, no…I’m afraid I don’t’ know him.” She held the receiver closer to her lips and whispered, “No hallucinogens at all?”

“Cha, the book’s made of skin and blood and probably weird, like fibers and crap. What more do you want?!” she then hung the phone up, leaving Evy to stare at the receiver.

Her mind raced to catch up with the implications. If she and Annie hadn’t imagined their encounters – if the book was made of blood and flesh, then perhaps….

“Evy,” called Annie, scaring the woman out of her wits for a moment. “I’ve found a new passage!” 

She took a second to calm her pulse before turning toward Annie. “What have you got there?”

Annie started translating the passage aloud, blindly and with mounting urgency in her voice. “Today my father brought me a book. It was a special book, he said, proudly held for generations by the elder priests of his tribe. With his people long dead and my eighteenth birthday approaching, he encouraged me to learn all he could of his people’s culture. Though my grip on the native language is pretty weak, I’ve been able to get a loose understanding of what’s hidden within the pages of this book, and the secrets it’s revealed to me portain of no good – but of infinite power that will be bestowed freely on whomever says these words…”

A chill ran up Evy’s spine and she automatically reached for the book. “Don’t read it,” she cried out. 

But Annie was lost in a fervor that was otherworldly in its power. “ _Kalmate Obsende Mon Agua. Mon agua om iuhga ge adore!_ ” Hair stood up on the back of Evy’s neck and she felt the ground shake beneath her feet. “ _Adore mon le catra! Cartra domine! Domine domine calanba baraga!”_ The lights flickered, the table shook, and a howling wind filled the room. Evy felt the ground rock beneath them and heard a demonic shriek from outside the door. Both women screamed their fear as a the glass traverses over the main door cracked and burst, and a large hand groped through. Sporting blood red, black-cracked claws, attached to an arm that was blackened like the flesh of a roasted quail that’s been set for too long and too close to a fir, accompanied by an animalistic growling sound.

“STOP IT, ANNIE!” Evy demanded. She already groped beneath the table for protection. 

“Kanda!” She chanted! “Kanda!” Then all at once the lights blew out – the glass shattered – Annie screamed and she fell across the book, eyes tightly closed. 

Evy had found what she searched for under the detritus of her desk - the Dagger of Princess Ak-Tuh-Sin, part of the suite Annie’s father had found in Egypt, something she and Annie had figured out had once been part of the ceremonial dress of a warrior queen. She’d taken it for protection as the modern world had encroached upon her cerebral one, the robbers who had ground mummies up to make castor oil. She’d been braced for a sort of revenge that she hadn’t yet experienced.

A “revenge” that came when the doors burst open, admitting an enormous, lizard-like figure into the room. As it caught the light Evy gasped at the horrible visage it cut; the thing was black-burned, and its head brushed the cavernous ceiling. There wasn’t any time for Evy to express her fear – she needed to be strong for Annie, needed to keep her safe at all costs. With that in mind, she climbed onto the desk, straddling Annie’s prone body, eyes steel bright. “You’re going to have to go through me,” she growled, shuttling a bullet into the chamber. 

The monster growled, the words coming from its mouth eerily disembodied as it lurched forward as if the weight of the ages rested upon its shoulders. “You shall never have the necronomicon!” it said. “Your souls belong to us!! We shall feast upon your pathetic existence for all eternity!” It extended its muddy, burned black claws toward the sky and let out a might howl. 

Evy grabbed Annie by the collar, dragging her closer to the bookcases at the back of the room with every available ounce of strength. Somehow she managed to get them both carefully hidden behind an enormous set of shelves, the highest and heaviest in the entire library. With her free hand she locked on and aimed at the enormous creature and pulled the trigger.

Two bullets lodged in its face, sending gouts of orange and blue blood pouring out over the stacks. Evy covered Annie’s face with her thigh and her mouth and nose with her forearm until the wounds quit flowing, and then aimed for the most vulnerable spots.

A shot to the neck, two to the eyes; the fluids changed colors but only started gouting forth with greater strength. She kept going until it lunged forward and she plunged the dagger into its neck. She kept digging until she’d managed to vivisect the head from the shoulders.

It fell back with a howl, allowing her to clean her hands and duck back to the safety of the stacks. Then the phone on the common desk promptly rang; Evy picked it up out of polite instinct. Into her ear blurted her brother’s voice. “Ey, Eve, do you know how to…”

“Now is simply not the time, Jonathan,” she muttered, throwing the receiver at the monster’s still-crawling torso. Two more bullets did the job.

Then, to her amazement, she watched it melt down into nothing but a frog, layers of flesh bubbling down into black nothingness, human-like bones dissolving into china-white phlegm. It whined something else about swallowing her alive before croaking repeatedly, then finally lying down to die.

Evy took the frog’s head in her hand, unable to believe that something so small could be magicked into something so fierce. But the demon wasn’t going to give up the amphibian’s body without a fight; not without issuing forth one last strong gust of wind that knocked the shelves back like a child’s domino set. Evy threw herself down as it toppled over – she’s thought to stowed Annie under an earthquake-reinforced table so she wouldn’t be in danger during the collapse. Evy then crawled toward presumed safety among the varied books, and then climbed to what she hope would be safety among the highest and sturdiest shelves in the room. She rested the gun in her lap, covered her mouth and nose with her palm, and prayed she wouldn’t be knocked into oblivion by the sudden burst of air.

*** 

Coated in plaster dust and spitting chunks of detritus, Annie Knowby slipped back into the waking world. Comprehension slammed into her like a runaway train.

She’d read the verse. Read it without meaning to cause so much harm, but read it nonetheless. The realization dawning upon her, Annie collected herself, shoving back an overturned research table, taking stock of the wreckage that was once one of the world’s top research libraries. Her friend was nowhere to be found. “Missus O’Connell!” she shouted, clambering over upturned chairs and crumpled maps in search of the elderly woman who had been her mentor for so many undisturbed weeks of good fun.

Silence filled the air. She heard nothing but the sound of flesh bubbling and spilling, and then the sound of plaster falling. She stood up and felt herself over for cuts and bruises. Then she heard a woman’s voice, soft and low and coming from over her head. “Annie, after what we’ve just been through, I think you ought to call me Evy.” The younger woman jerked her head toward the sound of her mentor’s voice – and saw the petite head librarian perched upon a bookshelf, the Dagger of Princess Ak-Tuh-Sin clutched in one fist, a sawed-off pistol on her lap and the decapitated head of a held in the other. 

A smile brightened Annie’s face. “Are you hurt?”

Evy took a moment to consider that question. “You know, I think the whole mess healed up my ankle.” She pitched the frog’s head toward Annie like a fastball, and the girl dodged it; the frog’s face shattered like a clay doll when it hit the ground. “I take it you’ve seen these creatures before?” She asked, hoisting a ladder toward Evy’s hiding nook.

Missus O’Connell gave Annie a genteel smile, taking the offered ladder and shimmying to the ground with the speed of a woman half her age. “I’m afraid demon-mutated frogs are a new one for me. Did I ever tell you about the trip my brother and I took to Thebes?” she asked upon reaching the floor.

Annie shook her head. “You haven’t exactly been one for telling tales,” she admitted.

“Once upon a time, my brother was quite the reluctant researcher, and I was a librarian – well, I’ve always been a bloody librarian, that’s nothing new.” She glowed with pride at the reminder of her title. “In any event, Jonathan and I ended up trying to find a long-missing artifact, and, well – we discovered that there’s such a thing as evil, mutated mummies.”

Annie gaped at her. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve seen my share of strange things,” said Evy, “but I shan’t forget that one.” She headed over to the phone – the hobble in her ankle returned, now that the weight of danger was long past. “The diadem, the dagger and the book all seem to be interconnected; and the princess’ diary is the key to making them all work together. Do you remember a thing about the recitation?”

Annie shivered. “That I started it. Then I felt this pure, white, piercing pain and lost all rational thought.”

“Which is when the princess possessed you.” Annie goggled at her again. “I saw it, plain as day. She tried to conjure up a plague of toads, I presume.” She gave a little shrug and her toe poked at the dust left behind by the shattered head. “But she miscalculated. Or the magic did.”

“Are you suggesting that whatever made the book flip…THAT tried to take hold of me and make me call up…”

“A plague of frogs, yes dear, catch up,” Evy said, dialing down to the front desk. “Hello? Smith? Can you get me the names of a few willing docents? I’m afraid I’ve had a bit of an accident upstairs. Yes yes, trifle bit clumsy…yes….” 

**** 

Annie and Evy slipped out the back way, leaving the custodians to care for the mess behind them. All they ended up taking with them were the dagger and the diary, and as they hailed a cab Evy whispered to Annie, “we need to carry this back to my home. If we translate the book your father found and compare it to what we find in the princess’ diary, we may be able to find the source of the evil and put it to rest for once and all!”

Annie gave the older woman a firm nod. “We’ll be sure to be careful – whatever she’s planning, we can’t let them win!” 

The taxi rolled to a stop before them, and they hopped in. “Fourth Westminster, on the double,” said Evy. 

The ride proceeded smoothly enough until they hit the first stoplight. “Hey,” said the cabdriver. “I think I know you. Ain’t you the lady who lives up on Bob Hill with that fella who runs the adventure camps.”

“Yes, I’m Rick O’Connell’s wife.” 

“I’ve heard his little trips are the bee’s knees. Maybe someday I ought to take part in one of ‘em. No. Maybe I should take over one of them!”

Evy heard the man’s tone of voice change, heard the evil curl of the words before she felt the cab list dramatically to the right and smelled the rubber burning against the pavement. The cab veered through a lane of honking traffic before it slammed into a light post, spraying glass and streams of gasoline in its wake. Evy’s seatbelt took the impact and Annie was already undoing hers before the demon could think to take control of them both and the door locks. As it crumpled the driver’s side seat Evy caught a look at the driver’s pure white eyes –and the evil twist of his smile. 

“We will have you,” he sing-songed. “One way or another!” 

She and Annie were a block away before the air was rent by the sound of an explosion and a rain of metal and glass shards stalked their steps. Both women ducked into the front hallway, only to meet face first with Evy’s husband, Rick. 

The adventurer had aged wonderfully, in Annie’s blushing opinion; not an ounce of fat on him at eighty, and though he was grey and wrinkled he still had the demanding look of a man who controlled every step of his own destiny. She hung back sheepishly like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar, embarrassed by the sudden rush of the inappropriate thought for such an older man as Rick quickly took his wife aside.

“Evy,” he hissed, “would you happen to have gotten involved with any, oh…mysterious, spooky, otherworldly chanting?” he asked. “The sort that would conjure up something totally, unspeakably evil that might rip apart the fabric of life as we know it and send the entire universe into a tailspin of total chaos that might endanger humanity itself.”

“No, that’s Annie’s fault,” said Evy.

Annie cringed and tried to make herself smaller as Rick turned his eyes on her. “Oh good,” he snapped. “I guess I have you to blame for the fact that I have four guys shrieking and flying around the parlor by the seat of their pants. What are they, garden-variety demon-possessed people or something more sinister?” 

“Demon-possessed; Sumerian, we think.” Evy said. “Tenth century or earlier. Fairly powerful, trying to use the book to gain passage to the human world.”

“Ahh, regular good old-fashioned demon worshippers. Nothing too terribly fancy.” He sighed and reached for the closed chest of drawers set against their entranceway wall; the family portrait set upon it rattled as he pulled open sets of drawers and started to pull open lots of linen and lace. Eventually he found his quarry – a bottle of holy water and a large gun. He holstered the latter and slid the former into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Now, you know I love you, but I’m getting a little too old to deal with this shit by myself. Hurry up and take care of it, will ya, sweetie?”

Evy grinned. “Absolutely! Just stall them for a moment, will you, dear?” 

“Of course.” He sighed and then sarcastically tipped his hat in Annie’s direction. “Excuse me, Miss. A fortune hunter’s work is never truly done.” 

Rick kissed Evy’s hand, and then rushed into the fray dammed up in the parlor, ducking a chair as it flew in their direction and planting is boot into the shrieking face of the nearest demon.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” Annie worried.

Evy shook her head. “Rick’s been doing this for longer than either of us can remember. He’ll be just fine,” she said, then started digging about in the chest herself. She managed to score extra protection for the both of them in the form of a large gun, which she handed to Annie. “Backup,” she said. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.” To the concert of Rick’s violent struggle, she led Annie to the study, where the book lay still, wide open, its grinning visage obscured.

Being in the same room with it gave Annie a terrible case of goosebumps, but she approached it slowly. Evy sat down behind the desk with far stronger determination, her eyes locked on the prose and her fingers skimming the pages. Annie laid the diadem upon the desk and the diary before the book, propped up. Both women bent over the ancient text and started scanning it for a matching spell, a point of similarity between the diary and the spell book.

They found it, ten minutes into the shared read, and in an entry left several days after the one that had caused Annie to lose herself in the haze of violent spellcasting. “This says,” Annie said very cautiously. “That she had given herself up to the demons to avoid an arranged marriage – that she sought them out, encouraged them to rip the soul from her body…and it worked not at all?” She frowned, turning the page. All that existed on the last bit of the tome was a bloody smear, and she backed away, fingers pressed to her lips. “I supposed it didn’t work,” she muttered.

“I should say not,” said Evy, paging through the spellbook. Both women turned their attention to that text, searching for a way out – and the perfect spell to properly set the evil back once and for all. It came upon the both of them in a rush – suddenly there were the words, written in careful Sanskrit. “Manifest the evil, then set it back in time,” remarked Evy. “Well, there might be a worse way to do it.” She tugged on the hem of Annie’s sleeve. “What shall we manifest it to…” she trailed off and backed away from the younger woman. 

Her eyes had turned bright white.

With an evil smile, the not-Annie figure grabbed the diadem and placed it atop her head. “There…back where it belongs.”

Evy swallowed hard but tried to sit strong and brave in her seat. “Hello, Princess,” she said. “I see you’ve come back to claim your property.”

“Oh, I want more than a pretty little crown.” She patted her hair. “Though I have to admit it looks lovely on me,” she purred. “I want the whole world, of course. I guess it’s kind of a cliché, but when you’ve spent your whole afterlife training to be part of an army that never materializes and then to be sold into marriage?” She reached for the dagger and took it between her hands, the light from outside the window glowing in her hair, against the white of her eyes. “How I’ve missed the feeling of this beauty in my palm. The power….but then you’d know something of that, wouldn’t you, An Nuck Sun.” 

“It’s been so long since somebody called me that.” And an even longer time since somebody had seen the ancient princess in Evy’s form. 

“Are you too old to fight?” Annie wondered. “What a silly question – of course you’re too old to fight!” she cackled. “What a pity, to see humanity come down to this – the dregs of aristocracy, and an old woman who can barely lift her fist to fight!”

“I wouldn’t underestimate me if I were you. Many have tried, and many have failed.” She reached clumsily over for the dagger she’d seized and rose with it in defensive pose. “How kind of you to go about this chivalrously.” 

“I may be a demon, Evy, but I’m not a savage,” she said, taking on a fighter’s stance – one foot in striking position, one hand held high over her head. “On go then?”

Evy took a deep breath and positioned herself – arms in striking position, a hand upon the dagger, fully prepared to save her own life, the world around her, and her husband battling below. She called upon the hidden strength of like she’d never done before. Then she lunged forward, into the princess’ parry. 

She thrust with both daggers and protected her thigh against a swipe, then started lunging, sharp and hard, against any further aggressions. Evy held her ground against the princess’ forward aggression, trying to square a space against the shelves that would keep her protected and hidden in good stead.

Naturally, the demon princess had to make sport of the older woman, even as she was bested. “Your skin will make a lovely herald’s scroll,” she hissed. “And your blood will make the most beautiful ink I’ve ever used!”

“You’ll have to strip it from me while I’m still alive,” Evy snapped. She felt the fire of her reincarnated self burn deep within her veins, driving life toward her heart, into her soul. She let out a savage cry and slashed at Annie’s hand.

And she pulled back. The hurt and fear in the woman’s face certainly didn’t belong to a haughty Sumerian princess, but Evy didn’t dare take it all for granted – she took advantage of the woman’s distraction and tackled her to the ground, then pinned her to the floor by tacking her sleeve in a crack on the underside of the bookcase. 

Evy sprang to her feet and then she reached for the paper. distraction and tackled her to the ground, then pinned her to the floor by tacking her sleeve in a crack on the underside of the bookcase. 

Evy sprang to her feet and then she reached for the paper that contained the spell – it fell to her feet in a riot of ink, pens and debris. She recited in a thick voice, “Kanda Anuck Kana! Kana ansalata maold wednce! Kanda aprondo minot!”

The Annie figure at her feet wailed and cried as she tossed herself back and forth under the weight of the other woman’s words. Then suddenly, completely out of nowhere she started to giggle. It was a creepy, high-pitched sound, one loud enough to make Evy hesitate slightly. It was all the room the demon needed; she picked up the book case and tossed it at Evy.

By some miracle, the older woman ducked out of the way as the case sailed by her ear, landing with an ear-splitting rending of wood and metal and scattering pages in every direction. To Evy’s dismay, the document she so desperately needed was now gone in the rabble of the disaster. She did the only thing she could do – dive in and start looking.

The princess did the exact same thing, working her way through the destruction, trying to find the right words, the right pages that would allow her control of this weak vessel for always. She kept trying and Evy kept trying, and they both laid hands upon the book at the exact same moment.

Tussling among the papers, the book clutched between them, the two women locked gazes – eyeball to pupil.

“You shall never save the world!” it cried. “We shall own this pathetic, wretched girl for all eternity!”

“Not while I’m still breathing!”

Parry, parry, block, lunge – She managed to send the demon back-first into the windowpane, its elbow shattering the glass behind it. Satisfaction filled Evy in the same moment as a wave of concern for Annie’s body – she’d have to drive the demon out of the girl’s body without the incantation. Then she remembered the holy water, which was still strapped to her belt loop.

She caused a distraction in the most fool-proof way that came to mind. “Hey – look over there!”

Evy knew many things about the demon inhabiting Evy’s body – foremostly that, for all of its bluster and for all of its insane capability, it was still an easily distracted teenage girl. Annie made a sound of confusion and Evy splashed the girl’s face and hands with holy water, sending it shrieking to the floor. Throwing herself toward the demon, Evy grabbed its clawed hands and bound them behind her back, then dove under the pages with both of her legs over the demon’s appendages.

She let out a scream of pain as the demon tried to twist her flesh under its vicious hands. But Evy’s determination paid off; she pulled out a page and started incanting the spell beneath the demon’s desperate howling. Her bone crunched; Evy chomped her bottom lip and held on with a terrier’s tenacity, angry, blood-emboldened with the need to save them all as quickly as humanly possible. Then all at once there was a stiff gust of wind and the hand clutching her ankle went slack. Evy took a cautious breath – she peeked over her trembling shoulder.

And there she saw Annie, rubbing her own shoulder, wincing quietly at the pain. “What happened?” Annie wondered, and took in the mess that had been the room. “Did we send it back?” she wondered.

“I think we did.” Why should she worry the girl after they’d been through so much? “Help me up?”

Annie automatically reached to do so. Carefully, she and Evy stood up and hobbled toward the corner of the room. Evy opened her mouth to remark upon the stillness of the night, but then she noticed the sudden dark of a shadow looming over them both, blocking the light out of the room. As they turned toward the source of the shadow, both were forced to muffle a gasp. 

The spirit had found a brand new home – had inhabited a source of new wickedness. 

The common teddy bear.

But that bear was growing – stretching to tower over their head. Its black button eyes took on a gleaming shine of new awareness, its claws growing and doubling in size until they seemed as fearsome as a regular, living, breathing bear’s. Its bow turned ragged, its fur seeming to glow with otherworldly energy. When the black thread line of its lips drew into a flat smile, it slowly lifted and split, revealing two rows of bright white and razor-sharp teeth. Both women braced themselves for an evil rumble of energy, but they didn’t hear or feel anything – except for a soft and rather complex chuckling sound – a woman’s voice held in triplicate, circling the room in delicate, reedy, high pitches that were almost beyond human hearing. And yet it was totally, completely, understandably feminine in tone.

“I should have claimed the bear first,” Came the princesses’ eerie, otherworldly voice from the mouth of the bear. “Just think of the power of cloak and dagger!” She chuckled, advancing on the both of them at a waddle, listing forward with the weight of the stuffing in its guts. “I suppose I’ll have to skip subtlety with the two of you, but I’m willing to do it. After all in the end there’ll be plenty of people to fool. I could become more powerful than either of you could ever imagine just by transferring myself to a bigger, better vessel.” Another grin. “Maybe the man downstairs would be a perfect first choice.”

But the reaction to its menacing attitude was less than entirely effective. Annie forced herself to bite back a giggle, and Evy elbowed her in the ribs. “Don’t let it see you vulnerable,” she demanded. 

“Yes, Annie, don’t let me see you vulnerable,” mocked the bear. “I might try to get my hands on the tools at your father’s disposal.”

“You distract it,” Annie hissed. “There should be an incantation to send the demon back to hell once and for all hidden in the boom’s reams – search for it. Once we trap the bear we can unhouse it for once and all!”

Evy nodded; that seemed the best course of action to even her experienced eye. Quickly, Annie leapt toward the bear’s clawed foot, taking it off-balance and forcing it to list into the mess on the desk. Evy shuffled through the pages, desperately sifting as she listened to Annie’s violent struggles. By some miracle she managed to find it…there! At the bottom of the book, beside a spell for fertility, there was a spell that would cause the necessary permanent banishment.

Annie grabbed the leg of a chair, shattering it over the bear’s head – it staggered, clawing blindly toward her, cutting open the sleeve of her blouse. Evy started chanting, feeling the wind scream by her ear and the land beneath her shake violently. 

“No!” gasped the bear. “You fools! You’ll ruin everything!”

Evy’s gaze narrowed, and she started chanting with direct menace, determined to send the bear to its’ permanent purgatory. The bear screamed , its red-black teeth flashing in the night. 

“Anuck Dan Moyd! Moyd! Avanc Da Uno! De Uda Vo Kanda! Kanda Madin Bam Kanda Le!” Both paws reached for its chest, which began to beat like a heart against its fuzzy covering. Continued Evy, “Kanda! Kanda! KANDA!” with such great menace that it didn’t surprise Annie when the bear let out an otherworldly scream as the seam split down the middle, bathing the room in a flood of guts and blood.

It was as if the heavens had opened; the manna raining down upon their poor unprepared heads - and the currency of the god were a jet of effluvia and death. Evy’s hand wove desperately against the tide, trying to avoid getting the white-green blood in her mouth. Before she could blink the colors turned from white to red to green to blue, finally tapering down in a thick, black flood that was closely akin to molasses. Then there were propulsions of slimy, tapioca-like scum, greenish-blue brak that slithered up their nostrils and down their throats. The incredible flow of liquid left them both clinging to whatever solid piece of land they could reach; Annie wrapped her thighs around a chunk of the desk and Evy clung chest-down against the corner of the window molding. In an ear-piercing shriek the bear’s head exploded and sent a shower of worms and maggots down upon their vulnerable heads; both women let out shrieks of disgust.

“It’s almost over!” Evy shouted. 

“I’ll crush your pathetic souls!” cried the bear, though it was somewhat indistinguishable, its brown fur molting and grey and flecking off even as its teeth fell out, even as it lost the ability to lift its mighty limbs; Evy had the ludicrous thought clang through her mind that bears were awfully hard to understand when they were entirely intact, let alone when they were possessed and being torn apart by the magic of millennia-old demons. 

“You’re nothing but a pile of rot!” Annie shouted. 

The bear acknowledged this with an animal scream as it fell to disrepair. The wind began to die and then dissipate entirely; the bear’s incarnated flesh turning to fibers that drifted away on the wind. The liquid that had been its guts bubbled and began to harden and congeal; the eyes turned back to buttons, eventually becoming the only evidence that the room hadn’t paid witness to a very mess dear slaughter. 

Evy slowly extended her limbs, daring at last to move away from the doorframe and touch the once-mighty being. Numbly, Annie brushed a palm against her bruised cheek, staring at the disarray of the library. 

Evy simply crouched down, scooped up the button eyes and dropped them into the top drawer. “The next time your father tells you research is a boring field tell him to sod off,” Evy said. 

Annie nodded, moving like the shell-shocked survivor of a nuclear blast. She crouched and started gathering pieces of paper and shards of documents. The door opened and both women jerked to attention. 

It was Rick, standing in the doorway with a blood-soaked broadsword in his hand. Whatever the spell had done for the two of them had done in tenfold to his former students; he was soaked in gore from head to toe. “Long night?” he asked them both.

They nodded together, mutely but single of mind. “You look a fright,” said Evy as she carefully placed the book and its sopping, scattered pages upon the desk. 

“Sweetheart, You knew that when you married me,” Rick said. He offered a sarcastic tip of the imaginary hat to her. With that, the three of them bent to the task at hand and started trying to piece the study back together.

*** 

One didn’t get into as much mischief as the Carnahan-O’Connell clan had over the years without knowing a few people who were willing to clean up massive stains for a nominal amount of money. The cleaning crew arrived some time after the six o’clock bell rang. The three friends traded use of the faculties and took a quick shower, then had their clothing laundried. While Evy and Annie sat by the fire trading stories, Rick instructed the cleaning crew in their work. To the tune of thumping and cleaners working overhead, the two women traded stories.

The conversation broke off into nervous laughter. Annie had to ask Evy. “You swear you won’t tell anybody what happened upstairs?” It would be hard enough to explain her tattered appearance to her father without dealing with further questions.

“I swear over a lot of things,” Evy said. “But I don’t think I’ll be telling anybody what we just witnessed.”

“Evy,” called Rick from the upstairs landing, “What do you wanna do with this thing?”

Evy peered around the corner of the doorway, and realized what he held in his grip. It was the Necronomicon, and it was unhappy to have been defeated. It seemed as if the Princess’ spirit had been trapped within its leathery pages, and it was beyond unhappy about this little turn of events. Her eyes widened briefly as the book’s pages began to flip rapidly. She’d never seen anything so barbaric in her entire life; it was as if the damn thing insisted on living no matter how long they’d tried to set it to its firey and eternal death it had returned to the world of the living to spite them and go on existing.

Evy remained cool. “Put it with the holy water, I think?”

“Right, next to the garlic and the crosses,” Rick snorted. But he took off to do as she bid before their helpers could catch him in the act.

The two women slumped, exhausted, beside the fire. They both heard Rick hop down the stairs, his surprising spryness just another reminder that he’d survived happily and handily the attack they’d experienced. He got busy calling Annie’s father and ushering the various cleaning services to the door, and in the meanwhile the two women spooned soup, crackers and biscuits into their mouths. 

Evy paused to take all they’d done in, let it wash over her like the river of blood had. She’d walked across the divide without experiencing fear, had managed to bring Annie back intact too, which was nothing short of a miracle. She felt braver than she had in years, and finally realized that the limits of her age were only as powerful as the limits of her mind. It sounded rather trite to consider it that way and yet it was perfectly and completely true. Savoring it all, she finally turned toward the younger woman and asked, “have I ever told you of the time I tried to stop a war between two teams of mummies?” 

Annie raised an eyebrow. “No. But I’d love to hear about it.”

That tale was just the tipping point of a very fascinating evening. 

***

The following morning, Knowby rang them up just to yell at them over the condition of his daughter and her property. Evy thought that was rather late of him as she held the receiver at a distance, but then again Raymond had never been the punctual sort. “I trusted you with my child’s life and you nearly ended it,” he said, as she returned the earpiece to hearing distance. “And how did you manage to destroy the book? I was planning on studying it, planning on using it for the greater good!” 

“Raymond,” she snapped, “that book was nothing short of a nightmare. It tried to kill the both of us in a single breath! It’s much safer in my keeping!” 

“And you expect me to believe in such poppycock?” he scoffed. “Evy, you’ve always had such wild ideas. The things you and Rick have told the world since you met in Egypt have been entertaining, but they’ve distracted you from the hard science of archeology!” She could hear him slamming his hand into his desk and pictured him in the lab, back when he was working on his professorship. He’d always been an officious bastard; she’d even encouraged Henrietta not to marry him. Her friend had supposed – she didn’t want to imagine what she’d supposed at this point. But it had separated her from Henrietta for too long, and she didn’t want to relive the disaster again. “The book is my possession and I wish to have it returned to me and, by extension, the United States of America immediately!”

“How do you suppose your daughter was injured while we were doing a simple translation?” she asked. “Think, Raymond! You felt there was something wrong with the book, that it and the diadem and the sword were all connected to the same princess. We know you were right now! We know that the princess who possessed all three staked her soul on the hope of avoiding a planned marriage. She used the book and it was her undoing!”

“I’m going to have the book professionally cleaned, then I’m going to do the translation work myself,” Raymond said, teeth in an audible grit. “But you’re to have nothing else to do with my daughter from now on Evy. I’ll bring her by to say goodbye to you,” he added. “But I expect you to give us a wide social berth from now on.”

“Of course,” said Evy, automatically, quite formally. “We should meet in neutral territory. How do you feel about Regent Park Teahouse?” she added. 

“Very well,” he huffed. “High noon tomorrow then.”

Evy glared at the receiver. She had a feeling she’d be forced to deal with an endless tirade spilling forth in choked soundbites from his mouth soon enough. 

*** 

The meeting was one of quiet solemnity, and Evy could feel the tension in young Annie’s form as they sat and drank tea under her father’s eye. When they’d both finished picking over the small marzipan cakes and coconut truffles they’d been offered by their young waitress, Annie sat back, rubbing with quiet anxiety at the bandage pasted to the back of her hand. “I guess you should hand over the book now,” she muttered.

Evy gave the girl a bittersweet smile. “And here I thought your father might let me keep it.” She shot Raymond a glare of disgust and reached into her pocketbook. The volume seemed to vibrate under her open palm, but she swallowed bravely and handed the book over to Annie again.

Annie couldn’t even look at the volume – she just slid it along the table and averted her eyes. “I’ll miss being with you an awful lot,” Annie said. “And I’ll miss our teas and our chats. It won’t be the same anymore being stuck alone with mother again.”

“You’ll buck up,” said Evy lightly. “There have been harder things said and harder things done, child, by both of us. You’ll grow to be a fine translator, and I’ll be watching out for you to grow into the sort of woman that would make your mother proud.”

She sniffled. “Oh, I’ll try – I’ll try as hard as I can!”

“And then try a little bit more for good measure,” Evy suggested. “If your father’s not willing to help I’m sure you’ll find another listening ear.”

Annie nodded, eyes bright. “Oh,” she sighed. “I’ll miss you so much!”

“Enough with this sniveling,” said Raymond. “Annie, come along. I have a long night of translation ahead of me.”

Evy turned her gaze toward Knowby. “Even after all of the advice I’ve given you you’re still going to translate the bloody thing? Raymond, I thought I knew you better.”

“I need to know what’s in the damnable thing before selling it off,” he grunted. “I suppose I’ll go ahead and give it back to you later on when I’m finished. Give it back to your husband and let him entice his businessmen with it.”

Evy said nothing, her jaw tightening in plain fury. “So it shall be.” She stood up and offered Annie a hand. “Goodbye,Annie. I’ll always remember you fondly.”

Annie continued filling her napkin with tears, eyes swimming within their sockets. “Do you think I’ll ever see you again?”

“You must have faith that you will. Don’t be a stranger, child. Translation can be such a solitary business.”

Their tearful farewell had its predictable effect on Knowby; he rose from his seat angry at his own obvious weaknesses. “All right. I’ll return the book to you by sunset.” Raymond took his spectacles from his pocket and raised an eyebrow at the tome. “It’s so slim I doubt it will take me even that long to discover its secrets.”

Evy tried to muffle her smirk. “If you think it’s proper, Raymond.” But as they wandered away she decided to intervene in the very fabric of time itself – saving their lives, and likely the world’s very existence.

*** 

“So you’re really going to do this?” 

Evy shrugged as she studied the spell. She’d spent the entire afternoon tripping through the already-ransacked library trying to find the proper tome; it had been locked in a safe and stored away for protection, wisely, and to her distinct surprise. “Of course,” Evy said. She flipped the page and outlined the correct words. 

Rick eyeballed his wife. “You’re going to reverse the path of time and try to keep Knowby from finding out how important the book is? All using a little spell from the back of one of those creepy but valuable spellbooks we brought home from Tunisia the year Alex was born?”

“It’s a sight better idea than just letting him translate the thing, isn’t it?” Evy asked. “Being two months younger than I am now versus letting him unleash hell on an unsuspecting world – it’s absolutely no contest.”

“I know. And I should know better than to worry,” added Rick. “Yeah,” Rick admitted, “but it puts a hell of a lot of the world at risk. Quite dangerous.”

“Well – I’ve watched you dash into danger for years – and we’ve always been together when we did it,” she pointed out. “So maybe we should keep on leaping in tandem. Trust in me, Rick. I’m no shrinking jejune when it comes to saving the world.”

Rick gave her a rakish grin. “Where did you get that nerve from, baby?”

“Myself. And you.” 

He kissed the back of her hand as she began the incantation.

** 

Evy remembered blackness. The dark, sudden wave of it sweeping over her head like a crashing flood of fear. When she regained her sense of self and sight, Evy realized where she was – it was the parlor. There was no familiar odor of lemon cleansing powder and the minty scent of glue. The sun outside was high and milky; it was a morning. 

And Rick was nowhere to be seen. 

She jumped up to find him, but then the door of the study opened and her husband appeared with their tea tray. “Here you go,” he said. “One large pot of tea and a buncha scones with lemon curd.” He also passed her a small pile of phone messages. “The answering service spat these out,” he said. “Do you know a guy named Raymond Knowby? He’s planning on bringing his daughter by the library to see you. He said he’s an old friend.”

She took a deep breath before giving him a brilliant smile and slathering it with the spread. “More that his wife’s an old friend. It shall be delightful to see their little girl after so many years.” After a long pause she finally ventured to ask him. “Rick,” she queried, “would you remind me what today’s date is?”

He raised an eyebrow. “March the tenth. Did you need to cancel an appointment or something?”

She grinned and shook her head. “No.” Then she reached across the tray and threw her arms around Rick’s neck. “Everything is perfect. Oh Rick, what a glorious day!”

“It’s just a Tuesday,” he pointed out. 

“It’s the best Tuesday humanity’s ever seen,” she declared happily.

“well…now that you mention it,” he joked in return, “it does look a little sunnier than usual.”

She hugged him back, long and hard, before finishing their breakfast together.

*** 

“I don’t see its value, Raymond.” She admitted, rolling the book between her palms a few hours later. She had to bite back her smile at the apoplexy of rage that contorted his features at her declaration.

“Utter balderdash!” he shouted. “Why these once belonged to a great princess! According to my every translation…”

“…You’ll need three cups of lentils and a bit of crocodile meat to finish off the stew,” said Evy, faking a reading with smooth expertise.

He frowned. “But I was sure….”

“You can’t be sure of anything, Raymond,” said Evy. “That’s why you need to rely on your intellect and your eyes, not just one or the other.”

“You did translate it with your glasses off, dad,” pointed out Annie.

“Impossible,” Knowby continued to mumble. “Absolutely positively impossible!”

“The whole world’s impossible, Raymond. My friendship with your wife was impossible once upon a time, but looks at us now!” Raymond glared at Evy’s smirk. “Yes, I thought so. We’re far better now than we once were,” she said. “Now,” she said to Annie. “Let’s spit-spot. We’ll see if we can get some tea on the boil,” said Evy, wrangling Annie to the side. “Come on, I’ll show you how the kitchen works.”

“Like any other kitchen,” Annie teased. “Right?”

Evy already pulled the girl aside and out of the room. Within the belly of the library she could still hear Knowby’s complaints issuing forth, but the most important thing was to find out what Annie knew about what had transpired in the…future. Past future? Hell, it was all so bloody annoying. 

“Annie,” she said suddenly. “You didn’t hide your father’s glasses so he’d mistranslate the book on purpose, did you?”

Annie paused, her hand upon the coffeepot. Evy could see her smile as she turned around. “Someone had to preserve the future,” she said. “Well. Two some bodies.”

Evy smirked. “At least I won’t have to teach you how to conjugate Sumerian verbs again.” 

Annie nodded. “We’ll have more time to research the crown. Keep it under lock and key – and hide the book where my father will never think to find it.”

“We’ll need to do something drastic to throw him off the scent,” Evy said. “I’ll take the book and have the cover changed.” 

“But Evy,” she said, “what if we can’t keep him off the scent forever? What if destiny brings him back together with the book again?” 

Evy didn’t take much pause at that question. She turned her gaze plainly upon Annie. “Well, there’s but one thing to do then – lie through our very teeth.”

Annie’s chin firmed at the remark. Yes, she knew how to divert her father; she could protect the book, if need be. 

Evy smiled and cradled the book closer. “Now, let’s see if we can’t solve this problem for once and all...”

 

***

“BLOODY WOMAN!”

Annie cringed at her father’s shout as he slammed his way into her bedroom. “What’s gone wrong?” she asked. 

“The book’s disappeared!” said Knowby. “She said she brought it in to be swabbed for carbon dating and the damn research department lost it! Can you believe her cheek?! It’s a million year old artifact and the fucking department lost it!” he eyeballed Annie as she bit her bottom lip and averted her eyes. “And what do you know about it?”

Annie took a moment to consider her words. She remembered the vast number of things they’d discovered during their protracted dig of a river basin in the Amazon and wondered how he’d fixated upon the ugly, wrinkled, terrifying book. “Not a thing,” she said. “When I spoke to Evy this morning she seemed rather sorry about it.”

“That’s the final straw,” said Knowby. “You’re not to work with that woman again.” He glowered. “It’s bad enough that the damn dig has been cancelled. Now we’ll have to return to America for the winter with these piddly scepters and jewels to donate.”

Annie winced. “You were happy enough with them when we were in digging them out!”

Knowby’s brow furrowed. “I was. When I thought I had the hope of selling the book WITH The diadem. But now they’ll have to be carbon dated too! That could take months, and I don’t trust another British lab to handle the carbon identification properly.”

“So we’ll have to make arrangements to fly out to America,” remarked Henrietta, ever-present, ever quiet in her corner of the room. “I suppose it shan’t be a bother; we’ll just exchange tickets.”

Annie watched her father as he fetched his bottle of brandy from it’s not at all secret hiding place in a nook by the mantle. He took a heavy swig and leaned against it, broodily staring out the window. 

“I bet we’ll find a way to replace it,” Annie said. “Somebody ought to want something, dad, I swear, we’ll find a way.”

He settled into the nearest chair, bottle still in hand. “We’ll land another dig. We’re due a remarkable find, Annie, and by George, I’ll leave you and your mother wealthy women some day!”

Annie just shook her head. “I don’t need anything,” she said. “I just want to profit off of your wisdom.”

And then what could Knowby do but laugh? “Quite the flatterer, our Annie,” he remarked to Henrietta. “Gets it from you.”

 

“Wherever that daft woman put that book,” Knowby growled, “we’re going to find it!” he grabbed Henrietta’s hand and made haste toward the doorway.  
“At least it’s settled then. I’ll miss Evy all of my life,” she said. “But if you don’t want her to teach me I’ll write her a note – I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Her father praised her intelligence from the doorway, and when Annie was alone she did write that note. But as she sealed it and put it away, she had to wonder to herself where Evy had stored the famous tome of the princess, the dread Necronomicon Ex Mortis, which had nearly brought the world to ruin again and again. 

Annie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. If she knew her mentor as well as she thought she did, the book was likely as far away from prying eyes as she could manage. 

***

Tennessee,  
1979

Annie trailed off in tandem with the wind’s howl. Three sets of eyes watched her intently, and the man in the denim shirt turned toward the wrinkled scraps of pages set before them, his eyes downcast.

“I never saw Evy again,” Annie told the small group of…well, she supposed she could call them trapped victims…surrounding her. She turned toward the desk, the man with the denim shirt and the mountain of unfinished translation work before her. “I never imagined that the princess’ book was the one my father dug out from the basement. They seemed so different. I guess it was a trick of the cover. I suppose Evy had it so well-changed that my mind was fooled upon seeing it….” She eyeballed her father’s translations, the framed pages. “After all of Evy’s hard work, the damn book unleashed its chaos on the world anyway.”

She felt the man in denim awkwardly squeeze her shoulder. “It ain’t your fault,” he declared. “It isn’t even Evy’s. This book, whatever it does – it’s got some weird sort of power over all of us…and probably over all of humanity1”

“Who gives a shit about that?” asked the overall-wearing guide. “Get back to translating before that damn hand comes back for us!” He glowered. “Who the hell cares about what some aristocrat did with the dang book?”

“Nobody you would know,” she glowered, plucking the picture from the book and then carefully folding it over the table. Annie bowed to her work. 

She wondered where Evy was on a night like this. She wondered what sort of council her friend would offer in this troubling time. Then Annie firmed against the tendril of fear as it tried to curl around her heart. No, she would save herself – save even the stubborn man standing beside her, his hands shaking upon the axe handle. And thanks to the confidence Evy had given her, mountains would move.

**** 

Five Years Prior,  
London, England.

The tomb was dusky-warm, standing in sharp contrast with the wet winter outside. Evy walked apace, her husband behind her, lighting up the room with the bright glimmer of his torch.

It caught some symbolic carvings etched deeply into the far wall. Evy’s eyes lit upon them briefly before dismissing the site outright as unimportant; she approached the notch at the far end of the wall with as much reverence as she could manage.

“You’re sure this is the right place?” Rick asked.

Evy nodded. “This is the book’s last known resting place,” she told him, resting it within the cradle. Her breath caught deep within her throat for a moment; she’d nearly forgotten to say the words before releasing the book entirely! “Klaatu Barada Nikkto! She whispered, and allowed her gloved fingers to let go.

Both husband and wife stood before the display, squarely breathing, before letting out a relieved sigh and heading toward the entrance. 

“You did it again,” Rick teased as the emerged into the sunlight. “But are you sure 

“Who would think to look here?” she asked. “Knowby’s digging on the other side of the Thames for the next four years; it’ll be ages before he thinks to try the other side of the river.”

He wrapped an arm around her. “That’s the brilliant – and frankly kind of scary – girl that I married.” And then they slid away from this place of conflict and despair to enjoy their golden years in relative peace and quiet.

THE END


End file.
